Autumn Leaves
by Nerdywithoutacause
Summary: Chris reminisces the day he and Darren first made love on its ten year anniversary.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Darren or Chris. This did NOT really happen. Obviously. **

**I may or may not be addicted to angst, sorry.**

"The day is still fresh in my memory. Ten years later and it is still as if it was nothing more than a few hours ago, a few minutes, seconds. As if barely a new day has begun. Sometimes I get lost in it, the memory. And then I'm reliving it, inhaling the scents, tasting the air on my tongue, the sounds still so very present. And touching. The feel of it all is what really gets me most of all. It's all so vivid, so perfect in my mind that for that moment it's real. For just a moment my senses all come back to life and it's just us. You and I and the changing autumn leaves, the grass that is still so impossibly green, and the musk of earth all around us. The wind was biting, but it let me know that it was all real. That I hadn't just imagined all the beauty around me, hadn't imagined your lips against mine or your body pressing into me. The words you said. That you loved me, that you always would. That you would never leave. That's what I remember most. The words.

But then it ends and I'm back here. You lied though, didn't you? You _did_ leave. And now the smell isn't the same. The cold wind is just that, cold. The leaves just appear in varying shades of brown instead of the brilliant red, orange, and yellows. The grass is dead and wilting. And the earth is dry. Dry and dead and dull. It holds no life, no nutrients or support for the struggling plants trying to set its roots in its depths. Autumn is too bright and beautiful a word to describe the season now. Fall is more appropriate. The brilliance, the life is gone. Autumn had always been my favorite season. Especially in New York. At our spot beneath the tree. That tree isn't there anymore. A storm I think. Lightning or wind. Or maybe the city just ripped it down. Not that it matters, its branches stopped flowering a long time ago. They'd been so bare. Maybe the storm or the city did the tree a favor, tearing it down. The tree couldn't have been very happy to wither away so plainly. The earth's fault I'd say. Being so dead and insufficient. And wasn't that the most ironic thing to say?

I-I'm trying. I'm trying so hard‒ so _fucking_ hard‒ to deal with this. But it's the hardest thing I've ever done. You could never understand, never _imagine._ It _hurts_ Dare. It just hurts so freaking bad. Like a stake in my heart. No, not a stake, because then I would be dead and the pain would stop. But it doesn't. It comes in waves, sure there are times when I don't think about it, can't bring myself to remember. But no matter how long I keep it at bay it comes crashing back down on me and I'm lost at sea, chocking on the salt water burning my lungs, my eyes, my nose. Everything hurts and hypothermia sets in. Except it can't be reversed, no amount of blankets can warm the cold inside me. I thought that eventually I'd be too numb to feel it, but I'm stuck at the over sensitivity stage where everything just hurts worse. And the chill is bone deep. I'm always so cold Dare. And I can't‒ I can't even‒ you're not_ here_. You can't bring back the warmth. No matter how cold I get because I'm here and you're there and no matter how much I beg you won't come back.

I‒fuck‒I'm sorry. I know you hate it when I cry. I know it can't change anything. Okay? I know that. I do. But what do you want from me? I tried to let go, Darren! I did! I really fucking tried. I tried to stop this. I tried.

Amber set me up on a date last week. Did I tell you that? She did. I let him kiss me when he took me home. I even kissed back. To convince myself that I'm not dead, that I can still feel. We had sex. I didn't feel anything. I didn't even‒ he did, but I didn't. I stared at the ceiling until it was over and locked the door after him. It was so stupid. I'm stupid. This is stupid. Everything is just so stupid. You broke me, Darren. You fucking broke me. What am I supposed to do without you? Now that you're not‒that you can't‒god it _aches_. Shit‒" And then I screamed. As loud and as long as I could. Because that's what I felt inside. The scream. A noise that made no sense and had no real purpose other than just being. The sound echoed hauntingly in my ears. Only my ears. The tears kept coming and I didn't bother to wipe them away anymore. I had so much more to say, so much that I needed to get out of me. But there were sounds, piercing moans that I realized were already coming out of my mouth, and talking was deemed pointless to attempt. The emptiness was what pained me the most, because it hadn't always been there. Because five years ago I had been so _full_. So swollen with being and life. And then it was all ripped away. I was only half a person. Empty and half a person. A broken half person. Deficient.

My knees gave out beneath my measly weight, the hard, cold ground bruising my skin. I barely noticed. "Why the _fuck_ did you do that Darren? How could you do this to me? If you ever loved me at all, how could do it? I miss you so much. Sometimes I open your drawers just to smell you in them, the smell is nearly all the way faded but I can still get a grasp of it most of the time and I can see your smile. The way it always reached all the way to your eyes and lit up the whole house. And sometimes when the smell isn't enough, I play your old CDs just so I can remember your voice and how you'd play your guitar for me when I was upset. But it's slipping Dare. My memories are slipping and I can barely remember the exact curve of your nose. It aches. It fucking _aches_ that one day they'll be gone. That my memories will be gone and you'll really be gone. I can't live without you." The stone stared back at me pointedly, mocking me. Teasing me. Thirty-five. A cruel joke. A few more years and I would be thirty-five too. I was never supposed to catch up with him, never supposed to know what life was like without him.

With a deep breath I wiped the salt water from my cheeks, pulled myself to my feet and walked back out of the cemetery. The echo of my scream and what might have been still haunting me.


End file.
